Blog #199

 

Tonight is New Year’s Eve.  In previous years, when we were younger, richer and not surrounded by Covid, we would don our tuxes and our jewels and go out to hobnob with our friends.  Lots of wine, expensive food and dancing.  I would hug the men and buss the women and give my wife a big and well-deserved kiss.  But that was then. Tonight is the last day of 2020, and we will not leave our condo.  There won’t be any dancing, no wine for me, certainly no jewels, no hugging of friends, but one thing I won’t give up – the kiss for my wife.  She’s the best!

 

2020 has been about as pleasant as a toothache.  But somehow, somewhere, there must have been something good about 2020.  There must have.  I’ll think of something in a minute.  Well, we made it through.  That’s one good thing.  And I only got one year older even though it feels like eight.  And my granddaughter was bat mitzvah’d.  And The View has not been expanded to two hours.  Oh, tidings of Whoopi and Joy, Whoopi and Joy.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well and working on your New Year’s Resolutions.  I’m having trouble this year.  I’ve given up smoking already and drinking and ice cream and red meat.  I’m not overweight.  I do my exercises.  I’m nice to my family and friends.  I’m not messy.  I no longer wear my socks on the wrong feet.  So I put a lot of thought into this year’s resolution.  Here it is: In 2021, I resolve to make you smile at least once a week.

 

Let’s see if I can squeeze a snicker out of you with this.  When Simple Simon said to the Pie-Man, “Let me taste your wares,” what did the pie-man say?  He replied, “My whats?”  “No,” said Simon, “your wares.”  “Ok,” said the Pie-Man:

 

I have a few wheres and some whats

They’re loaded with sprinkles and nuts

Some nows and some thens

Some whys and some whens

But sorry, no ifs, ands or buts.

 

C’mon, admit it.  I saw that little smile.  Carol and I have made a joint New Year’s Resolution to get matching tattoos, and we’ve already picked them out.  Mine says I LOVE CAROL.  So does hers. 

 

This week, the CDC, the Centers for Disinformation and Confusion, issued two press releases.  The first said that there have been very few cases of flu this year because of social distancing and mask-wearing.  The second warned us that Covid cases are exploding in number because too many people are not social distancing or wearing masks.  And these are the people we look to for information.  It’s like being in a Hall of Mirrors.

 

The Weekly Word is a short one this week.  Buss simply means kiss.  That was back in the first paragraph.  Have you forgotten already?  Buss is sort of ancient and archaic, but then, so am I.

 

Winter snuck up on us last week.  I’m not sure anyone noticed.  Winter used to mean it’s cold outside so let’s get our behinds out of here and go someplace warm.  But life has changed so much that now outside simply means the space between my heated car and the front door of the grocery store.  And travelling?  We used to drive to Florida and North Carolina, but that’s not in our plans this year.  And going someplace warm just means turning on the space heater in the bathroom.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  In winter with warm tears I’ll melt the snow (Titus Andronicus).  It’s pretty cold out now, but I’m not worried about Winter.  I have lots of warm places to nap and good food and water.  And I have Pops pretty well trained by now.  I learned it from Nonnie.  She told me, “Just purr and he’ll do anything you want.  And if you bite him once in a while, he’ll get over it.”

 

Carol got a call today from some marketing company that wanted to pay her $70 to participate in a 2-hour focus group on radio preferences.  She agreed, but when they found out her age, they said no thanks.  They don’t care what radio stations old people listen to.  Nobody cares about old people in general?  They clog up the highways and waste our country’s medical resources.  They pester their children about the simplest technological task.  Who needs these silly old people anyway?  Unless you’re a four-year-old or six or eight or ten, and you want a really cool bedtime story about dinosaurs and princesses and poopy old men who fall down and make you giggle and who never stop loving you no matter what.  Goodnight my precious grandchildren.  Sleep well.

 

My wife does not sleep well.  She doesn’t like my stories; she says I don’t talk fast enough.  I have suggested that she try going to the Opera – that always puts me to sleep -- but instead she keeps trying new cocktails and stratagems, all suggested by her friends who are quick to give her a list of things to try, none of which has ever worked for them.  “I take organic cherry juice to sleep and it never works.  You should try it.”  Yesterday, one of these well-meaning friends told her about white noise, random sounds that she could find on her phone.  Having selected three different ones and unable to decide which was best, she played all three simultaneously: screeching psychotic birds, torrential tropical monsoons and another that was just loud.  Amid the cawing, dripping and screaming – she could not sleep, and neither could I.  The next day I called the well-meaning friend to ask her if this night-time cacophony actually helped her sleep.  “Hell no,” she confessed, “but it keeps my husband up all night.  Why should he sleep if I can’t?” 

 

I see all this talk of sleeping and story-telling has made you jealous.  Now-now, I’ve told you plenty of stories too, and I’m pretty sure some of them have put you to sleep.  So goodnight to you all.  Happy New Year and may 2021 be a safe and loving year for you.  Stay well and count your blessings.  See you next year.

 

Happy New Year from Carol, Michael and Shakespeare

 

Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com